


Tumbling Cherik

by Square_Pancake



Category: X-Men - All Media Types, X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, Fluff, Kidnapping, M/M, Maiming, Medical Experimentation, Modern AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-14
Updated: 2015-09-20
Packaged: 2018-04-09 06:14:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4337018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Square_Pancake/pseuds/Square_Pancake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Short snippets, one-shots, and other story ideas originally posted on Tumblr.  Any chapters that become full pieces will be posted separately like my Ballet AU and my Alpha/Omega stories.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Winter Telepath

Charles carefully slowed his breathing as soon as he heard the footsteps outside his cell.  He knew that the doctor was recording how long he slept after each session, and if the guards thought he was asleep, they usually left him alone.  In hindsight, the doctor forcing him into a temporary coma when first testing his abilities was a boon, though it was paid for with the lives of many other prisoners.

The footsteps grew closer, and Charles did his best not to squirm when the door was swung open, trying to pull back his conscious mind in preparation for the experiments. Instead of being dragged off the cot, Charles heard the smack of another body hitting the floor and a low, pained moan.  When he tentatively reached out towards the person with his mind, he was slammed back by a wave of hatred, rage, and grief centered around the image of a kind-faced woman.

When the footsteps were gone, Charles tentatively sat up. The other boy didn’t notice him at first, so he took the time to examine him.  He was curled in on himself, kneeling on the cement floor of the cell and trying to swallow back sobs.

Charles took a moment to listen for the guards.  As far as any of them knew, Charles spoke and understood only English.  He’d rather they keep that assumption.  In actuality, the final act Charles performed before his coma was to lash out at two of the Nazis holding him and forcing him to watch as prisoner after prisoner was matched into the room and shot.  Skin-to-skin amplified his power, and pushed to the extreme, the young boy had no qualms about ripping knowledge straight from their minds.  

At the time he was desperately searching for what he needed to do to end the endless line of executions, but instead he absorbed a surprising amount of information about the camp, the war, and the horrors Charles was going to be exposed to.  Along with that knowledge, Charles picked up an understanding of German, improvements to his French vocabulary, and a smattering of Polish and Russian.  

He also threw both men into shock, which probably would have been survivable if the doctor had not wanted to study the effects.

Charles now understood German, but he had never attempted to speak it.  Nevertheless, he cleared his throat to get the other boy’s attention, and offered, “I am sorry that the doctor found you.” 

He then voiced his personal mantra out-loud for the first time.  ”My name is Charles Xavier.  I am British, I can read minds, and I am more than a laboratory experiment.”  The accent wasn’t perfect, but it was certainly understandable.

Charles could see the boy steeling himself, and at first he was certain there would be no response. Finally he said, “My name is Erik Lehnsherr.  I am a Jew. I can move metal and I will kill the man who put us here.”

A part of Charles wanted to object, but after everything that had been done, he couldn’t bring himself to argue.  Instead he told Erik with as much resolve as he could muster, “if you get a chance to escape, take it.  Take it and don’t look back.  Just make sure you can really get out before you try.”

Erik frowned, and looked as though he wanted to argue, until his eyes dropped to Charles’s legs.  While one foot was clad in a dirty sock, the other pant leg hung flat, the limb clearly missing.  Catching his eye, Charles leaned down and slowly pulled up the cloth.

A scar-twisted stump was all that was left below Charles’s left knee.  

“I tried to use my powers to escape.  I got as far as the outermost wall.”


	2. Cheriks on a Train

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt "Strangers on a Train" from lachatblanche

Charles knows he should be grateful to even get on the train out of Boston and to DC.  The record breaking snowstorms that had hit the East Coast meant plenty of canceled trips, and Charles’s could have easily been among them.

That doesn’t mean that he’s happy about his current position.  He had planned to finish writing up his latest research paper while traveling.  Really, he could barely afford to take the time out of his lab, but with Raven and Irene bringing home little Kurt, Charles figured that what little family he had left should come first.  

Good in theory, but with so many people crowding on the train, there is no way for Charles to get any work done.  The general anxiousness and annoyance with the weather combine to form a critical mass of pressing thoughts that distract Charles utterly.  Once the train actually gets going, the collective will presumably splinter off into multiple thought patterns and moods, allowing Charles to tune them out.

So for now he sits, unopened briefcase at his feet, leaning his head against the window.  He’s hoping the cool glass will leach into his head and numb the impatience that saturates the train.  He doesn’t bother looking up when he feels someone take their seat across from him.

A sudden jolt of pleasure stands out in stark contrast murmurs of the crowd.  Although the telepathy laws are not nearly as strict as once proposed, Charles knows pursuing the thought is still rude at best. Fortunately, Charles is skilled enough that even another telepath would be hard-pressed to feel him reading the topmost thoughts in another person’s mind.

He follows it anyway, desperate for a light note to start his trip.  To his surprise, the image attached the feeling of pleasure is his own body, reclined against the window.  The other mind is soothing, strictly organized in stark contrast to an ordinary person’s mind.  In spite of himself, Charles digs deeper, still not enough to be felt, but more than he should feel comfortable pursuing.  

There is a burst of attraction in the man’s mind, focused on Charles’s exposed neck and a desire to mark it with careful bruises.  There is also a slight appreciation for Charles’s relatively compact legs given the shared space between them and a slight desire to dig into a bag to retrieve a granola bar to sate hunger pangs. Those impressions fly over Charles with barely a touch, but they are not the source the man’s feelings.

The warmth is directed at the small, stylized “M” pin attached to his lapel.  When politicians had first suggested registering all mutants, more than one person compared it to the yellow star of the Holocaust.  And then a small group took the Myth of the Danes and the Yellow Star into the mutant registration fight.  Allies and mutants alike adopted the M as their visible symbol.  There was the unspoken promise that attempts to register mutants would result in normal humans disrupting the process by registering themselves.

After the registration attempt died an early death in a Senate subcommittee,  many people kept wearing the pins.  It was a simple way of showing support.  

In light of their childhood fights, when Raven sent him a pin, Charles wore it with much more faithfulness than he ever showed a religion.  The pin itself was hand-crafted of gleaming steel, more intricate than most- Raven mentioned that the artist behind its creation was another mutant, though the shapeshifter had never met the man.

The mind that Charles was touching reaches out and strokes the pin, feeling the nuances of the metal under the control of a mutant power Charles had never experienced.  Startled, Charles opens his eyes, his hand flying to his lapel as though to protect the little symbol.  It vibrates slightly under his touch.

The man across from him is startlingly good looking, all lean lines, piercing eyes and sharp jaw wrapped in jeans and a black turtleneck. His eyes widen at Charles’s sudden movement, before dropping down to hidden pin.

“I’m sorry if I disturbed you.” It is a statement, but the tone suggests a question as well, and Charles can feel his confusion over how Charles had immediately sensed his power.

Rather than admit his embarrassing lapse in manners, Charles simply smiles, “not at all, it’s always a pleasure to meet another mutant.  Our minds light up like beacons when we use our abilities.”  It is the truth, and neatly conceals Charles’s intrusion.  

“Telepath?” he asks.

For a moment Charles considers answering non-verbally, but it’s a long train ride to DC, and he’d rather not scare off another mutant, particularly one with such a soothing mind. He relaxes his hands and rests them in his lap, concealing the sudden anxiety that discussing his abilities with a stranger always invokes.

“Yes.  I caught a flash of the pin, and I have to admit I’m rather protective of it.”

The man looks curious and his lips curl at the corners into a slight smirk. “Oh? It seems a bit odd to be protective of a piece of steel jewelry.”

Charles smiles fondly in remembrance as he responds “it was a gift, and I’d hate to lose it. Raven would be dreadfully upset if she saw me without it.”

The man’s face goes a bit stiff at the response as he nods in understanding.

Oblivious, Charles continues, “my sister has very strong feelings about being mutant and proud, so literally the least thing I can do is wear something that shows my support as an ally and a fellow mutant.”

The man slowly reaches out, giving Charles enough time to move away, and strokes a finger across the pin.  

“It’s always nice to see my work appreciated.  I’m Erik Lehnsherr- I always remember metal that I’ve worked with, and I was pleased to see it so proudly displayed.”

Ororo had helped break Charles of the habit of gushing over unusual mutations, explaining in her kind, but no-nonsense way, that his enthusiasm could be overwhelming for anyone, but especially those new to their powers.  So Charles simply smiles and offers his own name before casually asking, “telekinesis, or metal manipulation perhaps?”

The man raises an eyebrow as he settles back, lounging against the seat in a way that made it look far more comfortable than Charles knew it was.

“Magnetic field manipulation actually.”  The tone is cautious, and Charles gets the distinct impression that asking detailed questions would lose him a seatmate, so the telepath simply smiles and responds, “marvelous.”

The train had started moving during their brief conversation, and the minds around them had settled enough that Charles feels as though he can get some work done. His seatmate seems cordial enough, but the work is pressing, and even a new mutation could not distract him for long.  The other man seems content to relax, holding a book while covertly watching the telepath.  There is no active intent behind the gaze, just fleeting speculation and appreciation of the view.

That probably would have been the end of it if the train hadn’t gotten stuck.


	3. Cheriks Still on a Train

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of Cheriks on a Train

When the train shudders to a halt in the middle of nowhere, Charles barely notices.  He’s most of the way through an analysis of gene activation in complex physical mutations and the consequences of traveling through winter weather are not going to distract him.

He vaguely registers an announcement over the intercom that the tracks were dangerously blocked by an unexpected snow drift; the train would be idling until the snow was cleared.  

A sudden spike of alarm from his seatmate is what finally pulls him from his work.  Charles’s nearly flawless recall pulls the name up and he asks, “everything okay Erik?”

For a moment it appears that the other mutant isn’t going to respond, but then his gaze sharpens on Charles’s face and he hums thoughtfully.

“What is your range for general sensing of sentient life forms?”

“I beg your pardon?” Charles asks.  To ask a telepath that question is rather forward at best, and an implied statement of distrust at worst.  Charles doesn’t think he’s ever had a near stranger ask him so bluntly.  Usually people hint around the question, asking about how he feels living in a city and whether he’d chosen a less densely populated neighborhood to give himself a rest.

Erik just rolls his eyes at Charles’s non-response.  “Look, can you sense people outside the train?”

Frowning, Charles tries to focus.  He senses nothing at first.  There might be some animals, but he’s never had any sort of connection with wildlife.  He’s about to answer when he notices the tiny disruptions in his senses.  Trying to track them is like trying to catch fog in his bare hands, but Charles estimates that there are at least ten disturbances outside the train.

He sighs.  He really could use some tea before this inevitably goes to hell.  There are very few reasons why a stopped train would be surrounded by people wearing suppression helmets.  Especially a stopped train that holds Charles, who, for the first time in years, is traveling without his constant babysitter/bodyguard Logan.

Abruptly Charles realizes that Erik is still waiting for an answer.  

Frowning, Charles admits, “I can’t read their minds, but the null spaces in my senses suggest there are some people out there with telepathy suppression helmets.”  Charles notes that his voice is far more resigned than it is fearful, but frankly the upcoming kidnapping is going to be a pointless and annoying endeavor.

Suppression helmets also disrupt the natural EGM field of the human brain. It was only after people wearing the devices started exhibiting erratic and paranoid behavior that scientists realized the problem; wearing one for too long damages the brain of the wearer.  At least in most cases.

One of the experiments that naturally flowed out from the realization that even world leaders could not constantly shield themselves from telepaths were frankly unethical attempts to force telepaths to wear the helmets themselves.  Thus the 'dangerous' mutants would be forced to deal with the negative side effects while everyone else was protected.

Charles hasn’t experienced it himself, but those tests rapidly showed that attempts to disrupt the EGM field of any psionic was just asking for trouble.  Some mutants had their powers amplified and their inhibitions lowered, others destabilized emotionally, but none of them actually lost their mutant abilities.  Other mutants who used mental control for telekinesis or teleportation showed similar symptoms.  Attempts to subdue mutants in that manner failed dramatically.  One piece of information Charles had gleaned from the heavily redacted research was that a mutant with mental powers who could wear a helmet without hurting themselves could protect their mind from other mutants, but even then they’d risk harmful side effects.

Frankly it left few options for trying to secure a powerful telepath.  There were other types of suppression devices that didn’t depend on altering the EGM of the brain; most relied on the application of sedatives or psychotropic medications.  

For someone of Charles’s power, those drugs wouldn’t suppress him for long.  His brain rapidly adjusted to attempts to suppress it- and by this point, Charles was fairly certain he had been exposed to just about any drug or drug combination a kidnapper would care to try.  Perhaps a drug specifically tailored to his genome that redirected his psionic energy could work, but no one had access to that information.

Which mostly left threat of force against bystanders or physical injury to Charles himself as methods to control his behavior.  But since no one could wear the suppression helmets forever, they were bound to slip up eventually.  

They always did.

And even if they didn’t and managed to keep Charles sedated, it would only be a matter of time before Logan came to rescue him and then threaten to handcuff them together so Charles couldn’t wander off again.  Sadly, Logan's natural resistance to telepathy meant he’d have a lot more luck subduing Charles than any kidnapper.  The man had plenty of practice from when Charles was a bratty twelve-year old.

Charles idly wonders what they were going to be after this time.  He is after all a known telepath, wealthy, and working on developing drugs that could eventually affect mutant abilities.  He knows he’s a prime target for kidnapping- for indoctrination, ransom, or his work.  

He resigns himself to waiting for the putative kidnappers to find him.  As he sits back, he notices that Erik is watching him incredulously.

“Our train was stopped in the middle of no where and men wearing helmets to protect themselves from people with your abilities are apparently responsible.  Aren’t you a bit concerned about that?”  Erik manages to keep his voice quiet, which Charles finds rather impressive given how irate the man sounds.

“Not really,” Charles answers absentmindedly while he makes sure that his most recent edits have been saved to his virtual drive.  Sadly, he realizes that he’ll be losing several paragraphs of writing that didn’t upload, but accepts the inevitable loss. He clicks the program that will begin wiping all the data from his laptop.  By the time they get him to wherever they plan to hold him, the computer will have no information that can be used by anyone.

“And if I told you that the men are all armed to their teeth with weapons that are probably not legal outside the State of Texas?”

Charles can’t help it.  The nuances of mutations always catch his attention, so he finds himself asking, “oh, you can actually determine the kind of firearms they’re carrying?  How long did it take you to learn how to differentiate among the kinds of guns?  Can you sense ammunition, or is it all just one piece of metal to your senses?”

“Are you…are you seriously asking me about these minutiae when our train is being assaulted by people who, once again, are wearing telepathy resistant devices.  Which means they’re either coming for you or someone like you.”  The flavor of Erik’s thoughts add depth to his apparent incredulity.

“Oh, I assume they’re coming for me.  But they’d not have bothered with anything this elaborate if they meant to kill me.  This many people is just to show me that everyone else is at risk if I attempt to resist the kidnapping.”  Charles has had experience in this area, so there is little doubt in his voice.

Erik’s eyes narrow.  “I can’t tell if you’re a moron or just naive.”

That is when the first man begins to pry open the door to their train car.  

Erik is moving before Charles can even sense the intent behind the action.  The man pushes Charles more firmly against the window and slides into the seat next to him.  He wraps his left arm around Charles’s shoulders and snakes his right hand across his body to thread his fingers with Charles’s.

To anyone coming through, they’d look like a close, intimate couple.

Charles begins to splutter when Erik leans over and speaks directly into his ear.  “I’m not about to let them take you alone.  I’m sure bringing along your entirely human and therefore vulnerable fiancé in order to control your behavior would appeal to them.”

Before Charles can even begin to respond to that absurdity, the man who entered the car has reached their seat.  With a sneer audible in his voice he says, “Dr. Xavier, I presume? I hope you didn’t think that you were hidden behind your boyfriend there.”  He finishes off by announcing into a communications unit that he had found the target.

Charles reaches out and puts everyone else in the car to sleep, skipping Erik for the moment.  If an armed man is about to make a scene, there is no reason for an innocent passenger to try to intervene.  Without sensing their minds, Charles cannot be certain how violent the men are willing to get.

Apparently reciting a script that no one had offered Charles, Erik sprung to his feet and took what appeared to be an appeasing posture.

“Hey now, I don’t know what you want with Charles, but we’re just traveling to DC.  We don’t want any trouble.”  If Charles couldn’t sense the absolute confidence in Erik’s mind, he might have been fooled by the quaver in Erik’s voice.

At a sharp mental jab from Erik, Charles blurts, “Erik sit back down.  There is no reason for you to get involved in this.”

“It’s people like them that make our relationship so difficult.  Why can’t other humans just accept mutants.  I can!”

The disgust is visible on the gunman’s face even through the bulky helmet.  Charles is sure that Erik has either earned himself a bullet or a free trip to some ridiculous hideout.

When the man pulls out handcuffs and seizes Erik’s shoulder, Charles has his answer.  It’s confirmed when the man snaps, “I think you should come along with us…Erik was it?  I think your little pet telepath might be even more cooperative when you explain exactly what you want him to do.”

As threats go, it’s not the best.  But Charles figures that low level kidnappers probably didn’t get a chance to work on their banter much.

As they’re ushered out of the traincar, both with hands cuffed in front of them, Charles notes that they don’t even bother to grab his laptop.  Slightly annoyed that he lost work for nothing, he inwardly resolves to make life hell for whoever is responsible for this.  

Glancing over at the near stranger who managed to come on his abduction, Charles wonders if he’ll have more than one target for his wrath.

At least they should have a chance to speak telepathically during transport so Charles can figure out why the hell the other man decided to come along masquerading as a human.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes from where this was going since I doubt I'll add any more to it:
> 
>  
> 
> Hmm, haven’t thought too much about where this would go. But on my drive home from work I kicked around the idea that it’s not the weather that stops the train.
> 
> Charles is a known telepath, rich, and working on a drug that could affect mutant abilities. He’s a prime target for kidnapping- for indoctrination, ransom, or his work. Ever since he was a child Logan Howlett has been his bodyguard/babysitter. Logan is resistant to telepathy and can’t be put down too long by drugs, so attempts to subdue Charles would run into his adamantium-clad claws. 
> 
> But Charles is on this trip alone. The weather kept Logan stuck in New York, and Charles was supposed to stay in his lab with security. But Raven gave birth early and Charles decided that the train was public enough that no one would try anything.
> 
> The kidnappers are eager to jump on Charles being without his bodyguard, so decide to block the track, make it seem weather-related and snatch Charles in the confusion.
> 
> But when they come for him, thanks to Erik's fast talking they decide that Charles’s human boyfriend would be good leverage to bring with them.
> 
> Rather than anything serious, Charles will mostly be sitting back wishing he had tea while former Mossad-agent Erik Lehnsherr lets them take the pair captive so he can rip apart their base personally.
> 
> So- no idea if I’ll ever write it, but that’s where my strangers on a train story is going. (Man, now I have all sorts of backstory for Erik in my head. Like his work with Mossad actually helped show Israel and eventually the US/other Allies the benefits of having mutants on the payroll. His jewelry making started as therapy after he finished active service, etc.)


	4. A secret written on the skin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt:
> 
> Imagine person A lightly tracing “I love you” over and over again on person B’s back, assuming that person B is asleep. When person A is lying on their back, getting ready to sleep, person B moves closer and wraps their arms around person A, whispering softly, “I love you too.” Bonus if that’s the first time person A has ever declared their love for person B.

Lying to a telepath is easier than most people think.  Because most people actually lie to themselves, but don’t realize it.  After spending far too much time assuming he knew everything about people, and getting burned from the resulting fallout, Charles finally realized that he needs to know himself before he can really understand other people.

And that means accepting his own emotions even if he’s not certain they’re reciprocated.

He’s in love with Erik.  The telepath knows it, but Charles has never been able to bring himself to admit it out loud.  

Charles doesn’t want to say “I love you,” and have the words just sit gracelessly between them, ruining their fledgling relationship if Erik doesn’t return the sentiment.  Or worse, feels obligated to say it back.  He won’t go digging into Erik’s mind for the same reason.  It’s enough to feel the affection that radiates out when Erik is content, sated in bed together with their legs tangled under the sheets.

Erik always falls asleep quickly when he’s actually relaxed, and has told Charles that he sleeps better when the telepath stays overnight. It thrills Charles to know that the man wants Charles to stay; it’s more of a declaration of affection than any other Erik has offered.  

It doesn’t surprise Charles that he’s still wide awake when Erik goes quiet in the darkness, his mind relaxing but still projecting affection. Under the warmth of that fondness, Charles finds himself tracing letters against Erik’s muscular back.   

Charles was forced to master penmanship as a child, since anything but handwritten invitations and thank you notes was simply gauche in his mother’s mind.  It’s easy to see how the letters would look on Erik’s skin as the telepath traces “I love you” over and over.  It’s meditative, really, the affirmation of his own feelings, the pleasure of Erik’s skin under his fingertips, and the slow relaxation of the repetition. 

He lulls himself to sleep with his fingers on his lover’s back, shifting slightly as his eyes close.  In the morning, Charles isn’t certain if he imagined Erik pulling him into a sleepy embrace and whispering, “I love you, too, liebling.”


	5. How Erik Became Q

In the end, MI6 succeeds in recruiting Erik more by who they send than because of the content of their offer.  Because while Erik didn’t know the man was MI6 when they first met, Erik recognizes the man that allowed him to get his revenge.

 

Erik would have approached Shaw and tried to put a coin through his head just as he had planned since escaping the lab with the other test subjects.  And if he had done that, Shaw would probably have recaptured Erik after using his abilities to shrug off the attack.

 

At the time, Erik was loosely affiliated with Mossad, and had their tacit consent and cooperation in hunting down a man who was continuing the work of the Nazi scientists from decades before.  Had anyone realized that Shaw was in fact  Dr. Klaus Schmidt, Erik would have received a great deal more support.

 

But no one had realized the connection, and Erik was operating under the assumption that Shaw was simply an evil man committed to a philosophy that should have died with its progenitor. So when Erik finally tracked him down, he made no real plans other than direct confrontation.  

 

That was when a cheerful, well-dressed man approached the cafe table Erik was sitting at and discreetly passed him a unlabeled folder.  Assuming that the man was a Mossad contact, Erik managed to read through  and memorize the information before sliding it back, presumably for destruction.

The folder contained seemingly basic information about Shaw, but it was basic information Erik had never come across.  Specifically, the information about Shaw’s hidden mutation revealed the futility of Erik’s plan.  It also suggested that a direct confrontation with Shaw would lead to exposure to mutants Erik didn’t know how to counter.  The powerful telepath Shaw apparently employed was especially worrisome, because she would be able to detect an ambush and thwart it with little effort.

 

If not for the handwritten notes at the very end, Erik might well have gone on a frenzy of destruction to relieve his rage.

 

Specifically, the notes questioned how small of particles he could control, and whether he could control something within another person’s body.  The analysis of Shaw’s ability suggested that he had heightened healing that was triggered by kinetic impact. Poison or other internal attack would most likely evade Shaw’s abilities.  Finally, the notes suggested that Erik look into the mechanics of iron poisoning in the human body.

 

With the ideas outlined in the notes, Erik spent weeks researching and working on a poison that he could accelerate inside the human body at a distance.  Three weeks after the brief encounter with the cheerful contact, Erik used the excess iron that had laced Shaw’s food to rip through his stomach lining and rupture his liver before driving small particles straight through Shaw’s brain.

Shaw’s death was a bloody spectacle, and even if the monster didn’t know who was killing him, Erik was at least satisfied that Shaw was dead.  Or least he was once he had personally cremated the body and scattered the ashes across two countries and the Atlantic ocean.

 

It was only after Shaw was dead that Erik returned to Mossad.  But when he thanked his handler for the new information about Shaw and his abilities, the spy professed ignorance.  Wherever the intel came from, it wasn’t them.

 

Frankly, Shaw’s death left Erik at a bit of a loss.  He had his revenge, but other than possibly trying to track down whoever initially funded Shaw, Erik had no real goals in mind.  His connection with Mossad was tenuous at best, and Erik had no interest in being a killer-for-hire.  After watching Shaw’s death, Erik had lost interest in directly killing anyone.

 

But after a childhood of being little more than a lab rat training to use his powers for destruction, Erik didn’t know what he even could do with himself.  Other than trying to find and destroy other labs experimenting on mutants, he had no real options that would use his skills. And he was tired.  Tired of hunting on his own, tired of trying to quiet the memories of his mother’s death and tired of charming and threatening people out of information.

 

That was when the discreet job offers started.  Given his heritage, the option to join the Bundesnachrichtendienst wasn’t a surprise, but Erik had little desire to return to Germany, the place held too many memories. Other, less official agencies put out feelers and Erik had to wonder who in Mossad had leaked his name, because being approached by so many intelligence agencies in the middle of Tel Aviv was getting a bit ridiculous.

 

That was when Charles Xavier once again entered Erik’s life, casually sitting down at his table just like before.  Whatever he was expecting, Erik’s surprise at Charles’s greeting is genuine.

 

“I saw you took my advice.  A bit theatrical, but effective all the same. Charles Xavier, pleased to meet you officially.” At this, the man offers his hand, which Erik bemusedly shakes.

 

There’s a surprising amount of information in that greeting; Xavier and whatever agency he’s part of were watching either Shaw or Erik, Xavier knew the contents of the folder he passed on, the suggestions were probably from Xavier personally, and that any aid Erik had received was unofficial.  Still, this group had had more information about Shaw than anyone else.  And without the information they provided, Shaw would still be breathing.

 

“I don’t really want to use the skills you observed again,” Erik says when he releases the hand.  “Most are disappointed to hear that.”

Xavier nods amicably, “so we’ve gathered.  But even before that news got around, we were actually more interested in you joining our research department.  The fine control you have over your abilities lends itself better to microtechnology than it does field work.”

Erik is just interested enough to allow MI6 to make the full pitch.  And intrigued enough with Charles Xavier and the hints he drops to accept the offer.

 


	6. Learning to be Q

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuation of "How Erik became Q"

Erik’s first few days at MI6 are  a confusing whirlwind.  He meets his new supervisor, Q, and is told that his new codename would be “T”.

“If you survive long enough, you might make your way all the way to Q!” the old man cheerfully announces, as though Erik’s survival is actually at risk.

“I thought you didn’t send your people out into the field?” Erik questions.

Before Q can answer, another researcher yelps behind them and shouts, “Cobras! Cobras! Arrrghh…”  The shout trails off into a gurgle.

When Erik cranes his neck to see through the window into the research station, he finds that the lone worker has collapsed on the floor, with nothing around him, let alone large venomous reptiles.

To Erik’s surprise, Q doesn’t do anything other than rapidly type in some sort of password on the console connected to the door.  When the light flashes red, he sighs and and speaks into his wristwatch, “Can we get some scrubbers in the hallucinogen unit? Looks like Gwynn’s dust is loose in the air again.”

Upon hearing a confirmation, Q turns back to Erik and says grandly, “no, we don’t send people into the field, but I don’t want you to think it’s boring down here!  We do some magnificent research in the Queen’s service.  And as a mutant, I’m sure you’ll be able to exercise your powers in ways no one else would even think of!”

Erik relaxes when Q seems to place all research regarding his abilities in his own hands; he’d had more than enough of being a research subject under Shaw.

Q continues to show T around the building.  He’s rather impressed with the number and variety of weapons available, and is comforted by the thick steel plating embedded in all the walls.

It takes him a week to ask about his recruiter.  Erik hadn’t been idle in the meantime- It turns out that Charles Xavier, millionaire playboy, is a public figure.  His combination of innocent looks and charming debauchery make him a favorite among a certain sect.  His generous donations to all the right charities help too.

As discreetly as possible, Erik had obtained all the publicly available information about Charles Xavier.  Frankly, Erik is surprised that he even saw Xavier’s real face, but he supposes that the agent may very well have used disguises outside the actual meetings.

While Erik gluts himself on any information, he also tries to read between the lines.  There isn’t much there.  And if he makes a point of saving the best photos of Xavier on his personal computer, frankly no one else needs to know.

When he tries to get information regarding “the agent that recruited me” within the agency, he’s rapidly shut down.   He’s not stupid enough to ask for him by name, but clearly Erik needs to do something if he wants to figure out why such a public figure is part of such a clandestine organization.  

  
He’s kept astoundingly busy in the labs.  Erik is learning more about computers and engineering than he ever thought possible, and has his own assignments on top of that.  

So his time for speculation is limited.  But not nonexistent.  Over the next few months, Erik toys with different possibilities.

There’s the obvious prospect- that it’s simply a matter of money, and Xavier bought his way into MI6, but Erik doesn’t consider it for long.   He’s got a decent sense for competence in both people and organizations.  Xavier and MI6 both meet Erik’s standards.

So there has to be something else. Something about Xavier that makes his presence in the wider world worth the risk.  As open as Charles Xavier is with his public life, there are too many opportunities for him to be exposed as something more than a dilettante.

Erik mentally composes a list of possibilities after he rules out wealth.

Looks - Charles Xavier is boyishly good looking, and Erik has never in his life met someone else with eyes that shade of blue, but he’s not so attractive as to make that alone the reason.

Intelligence- before joining the research division, Erik might have credited this reason.  But he’s met too many people with such wildly disparate talents and intellectual gifts that he’s sure that one man could not encompass so many as to put those other intellects at risk.

Contacts- Erik is hesitant to eliminate this possibility.  Xavier Biogenetics has its fingers in many pies, and Charles Xavier is at the heart of the company for all that he publicly disclaims any responsibility.  

Mutant ability- Erik knows he’s biased, but he does actually think this is the most likely possibility.  MI6 is welcoming to mutants: Erik has met several in the research division, but no one speaks about field agents having abilities unless they are directly related to an equipment requirement.  

During his second week in the research area, Erik was tasked with developing a weapons harness that could go undetected and also allow free shapeshifting for one mutant.  The agent, 003, had entered his lab, demonstrated the range of their abilities and then left.  Erik wasn’t sure the agent’s gender or base appearance, which was evidently how the field agents like to keep it.

While Erik doubts all the field agents are mutants, he is sure they all have very specific and valuable skillsets.  It’s the public role that makes Charles unique and Erik believe he is probably a mutant.

He scours his memory, trying to determine if Xavier had left any clue during their interactions.  As he thinks, it occurs to Erik that Xavier knew more about his abilities than even Shaw did after years of experiments.  At the time Erik had assumed that the man extrapolated what information Mossad had on Erik to come to his conclusions.  

But Mossad had denied even knowing that another agency contacted Erik.  And the details about both Erik and Shaw were very specific.  Even the range and abilities of Shaw’s pet telepath had been explained.

Perhaps Charles Xavier could perceive mutants’ abilities?  Or somehow determine skillsets?  And his public persona would expose him to many of the upper crust who were hiding their talents?  The first two fit, but the last reason still didn’t quite add up.

When the most likely possibility finally dawns on Erik, he wants to hang his head in shame that it took so long.  Erik doesn’t know _exactly_ what a telepath can do, but his research into the ability after the tip-off on Shaw’s telepath has taught him that putting a telepath in physical proximity with their target helps them read people.

And putting Charles Xavier in a room with powerful, rich people who allow him to lead them in conversations makes him the perfect information gatherer.  The perfect spy.  So long as his ability is kept secret (and assuming Erik’s guess is correct), putting Charles in high society meant MI6 had more access to secrets than any other agency.

After all, how many extremely wealthy telepaths are out there who don’t need an agency to build them a cover?  Charles Xavier was born into wealth and had automatic invitations for everything from tea with the Queen to cricket matches with the PM of India.

Of course, Erik could be wrong.  And he’s not about to just wander around MI6 asking about Charles Xavier, potentially telepathic secret agent.

He likes his job and values his life.  

He thinks about letting the issue go and accepting that he won’t cross paths with Xavier again unless the man comes to R&D himself instead of just working with Q directly as most of the highest agents do.  

But Erik isn’t quite ready to let it go.  And he’s certainly not patient enough to wait and see if he survives long enough to become the new Q.  He wants to thank Charles personally, and perhaps pursue that spark of interest that led him to accepting the position within MI6.

So after six months of settling into his role as a tech developer and keeping his research subtle, Erik decides he won’t just wait.

Instead he goes to Q with the idea for a new project.

“Based on some schematics I saw when I was fulfilling my last mission with Mossad, I think there may be a way of amplifying telepathic abilities. Do we have any agents who would be available to test prototypes for me?”  Erik’s voice is clinical, and he makes sure that his expression is nothing but professional.  There is no reason why his personal interest should interfere with his actual research potential.

Because Erik’s not lying.  True, the schematics coming out of the CIA were a bit rough, but he’s fairly certain he can adapt them to be useful.

Based on the expression on Q’s wrinkled face, Erik’s attempts at nonchalance were pointless.  Rather than answer, the elderly researcher leads Erik to his office, a far more secure venue for discussion than Erik’s lab space.

For a long moment, Q says nothing.  Finally he admits, “I’m surprised that the information wasn’t taken from you.”

“What information is that, sir?” Erik assumes that Q is referring to Xavier being an MI6 agent, but he’s not about to squander a chance to get more intel.

Once again, Q seems to look right through him, and Erik belatedly wonders if Q is a telepath as well.

“There are very few reasons why a new researcher might be looking to develop a telepathic amplification device without actually knowing if we have a telepathic agent.”  Q doesn’t ask directly, but Erik can hear the question in the statement.

Erik knows better than to lie, but he also knows better than to say everything.  He settles for, “I’m sure very few of your researchers have infiltrated the CIA’s databases and come away with schematics that are pretty much intricate metalwork and therefore uniquely within their field of expertise.”

Q’s laugh is dry as dust. The senior researcher doesn’t say anything, but Erik is suddenly sure that more than one of his colleagues have, in fact, infiltrated the CIA’s databases either before they were recruited or as part of their duties.

“I’m not sure what you know, but your clearances are solid and your psych tests are as good as we can expect given your background."  

Erik bristles slightly, but doesn’t allow himself to say anything.

“Besides, we do actually need someone to work more closely with 008.  He’s driven off the last two researchers who were assigned to work with him.”  Q continues to look at Erik thoughtfully.  “And given that he recruited you without pretty much any input from the higher ups, he must see something specific in you he’s willing to work with.”

Erik doesn’t let himself smile in triumph, but he’s won access to Charles Xavier at the very least.

He’d not say no to the chance to working with him directly either.  Just because two other researchers were scared off doesn’t mean Erik will be.


	7. Flirting Without Intent

“Why don’t you date?”

The question had been bothering Erik for a couple of months. While he always thought Charles was attractive, it was only as college graduation loomed near that Erik realized that he wanted more than their admittedly close friendship. Sure they had already planned on living together while Charles continued to study at Harvard Medical School and Erik worked as an engineer, but even that was only four more years together before Charles graduated and went somewhere for residency. The more he thought about it, the more he couldn’t picture a world in which they were separated.  

It took a bit longer for him to realize that he was in love with his best friend.

So he decided to try and figure out Charles’s type, to make sure it wasn’t hopeless before he made a move.

In hindsight, it was almost embarrassing how slowly Erik came to realize that Charles didn’t date, didn’t hook up, didn’t do anything more than flirt with anything that moved.

It was the flirting that had probably kept Erik from noticing. Charles was extremely social, people loved him, and Erik never gave it much more thought than that. So it took awhile for him to realize that for all his flirting, Charles never went home with anyone.

Which led to the question.

“Pardon?” the response seemed absentminded, and Charles kept his head bent over his textbook, highlighting various parts of the bioanalytical chemistry text.

Undeterred, Erik asked again. “Why don’t you date?  I don’t think you’ve seen anyone romantically since we started here.”

Charles looked up for the first time and shrugged.  “It’s a bit complicated,” he said, then very clearly began reading again.

But Erik had been wondering for months, and with his personal interest in Charles, it wasn’t just idle curiousity. “Is it because of the telepathy? Because I know some people are dicks about that.”

Erik knew he had been one of those dicks in high school until a mutant named Emma Frost had literally hit him with the definitive work of psionic biology and then forced him to learn how to detect telepathic intrusions so he’d stop being so paranoid.

“Well, not exactly.”

When Erik said nothing, Charles sighed and finally put his book away. He continued, “It’s just that when I came to Harvard I didn’t really know anyone. I mean Tony was at MIT, but we barely got to see each other freshman year.”

Rather than discuss the sore subject of Charles’s oldest friend, Erik pressed on with his question. (It’s not that Erik didn’t respect Tony’s intelligence, but sometimes the man liked to rub his closeness to Charles in Erik’s face).

“Isn’t that what dating is for? To get to know people.” Erik was admittedly a bit of a novice at that part.  He’d had his share of hook-ups, but other than the month when he dated Magda so that both of their parents would stop trying to set them up together, Erik hadn’t found a guy or girl he wanted to see long-term.

“Well sure, for some people I guess.” Charles’s voice grew a bit hesitant, and the constant hum of telepathy at the edges of Erik’s mind seemed to draw back a bit. “But, well, I don’t find people attractive until I really get to know them. And even then, sexual attraction rarely happens for me. I’ve found two people sexually attractive in my life so far.”

Erik’s stomach was sinking, but Charles continued with his explanation before Erik could change the subject.

“You’d think that being a telepath would help, but honestly it just makes it even harder to really get to know someone once you realize how many layers even the most boring person has. And I’m not about to go mind diving random people just to see if I find them attractive once I actually know them.”

“But after four years here, you must know some people fairly well. And I know you’ve voiced opinions on whether other people are attractive.” Erik was sure that Charles knew his own mind better than most people, but he was legitimately confused.

“I did have a classical education, complete with in depth study of the arts,” Charles responded tartly. “I can tell when someone is aesthetically pleasing. It doesn’t mean I want to take them to bed.”

“People talking about wanting to have sex with celebrities they’ll never meet- it makes about as much sense to me as talking about fucking Michelangelo’s David or being attracted to Monet's Waterlilies. But I can still say that both people and art are visually appealing.”

“But sometimes there’s more?  You said that there have been two people you’ve been sexually attracted to, and I know you have a wide circle of friends. So there is a chance you’d find others dateable.”

Charles looked pensive.

“There are certainly a few people I’ve met here that I’d say I know well by now. But just really knowing someone doesn’t mean they spark any interest in me. Moira is abstractly a lovely woman and a good friend, but there is no way I would ever see her in a sexual light, even if she wasn’t disgustingly in love with Sean.”

“So you’re not interested in dating anyone.”

“Why are you pushing this?” Charles finally snapped.

Erik hedged, but answered honestly, “because you’re my friend and only in the past few months have I realized there was a part of your life I knew nothing about.”

“It’s a small part of my life-honestly given everything happening right now with graduation, dating and thinking about dating are barely a blip.”

“You’re avoiding the question. Two is still not zero.”

“Fine. I’m in love with someone. One of the two people I’ve ever found sexually attractive and perhaps the only person I could ever fall in romantic love with.”

“Oh,” Erik croaked from his suddenly dry throat.  Given everything Charles had just said, it seemed remarkable he had found someone like that.

“Will I get to meet her?” and make sure she won’t hurt you, he added mentally.

“It’s a him, and we’re not dating.”  At Erik’s slightly puzzled look he added, “I don’t call myself gay because it’s both too broad and too narrow a term for me- the two people I’ve found appealing are both men, but that doesn’t mean I won’t at some point be attracted to a woman.”

“So why aren’t you dating him?  He must be a friend of yours, based on what you’ve said. Why not give it a go?”

“He’s only dated women. He’s mentioned in the past that he’s found men attractive, but he’s never flirted with me and I’m not going to dive into his mind to see if he’s interested.  Especially since friendship is much more important to me than even the possibility of romance.  So if he ever asks me out, I’d at least consider it, but I’m not comfortable initiating.”

The conversation had already thrown Erik off his stride, so he just numbly offered, “You flirt with everyone.”

“I flirt with slightly tipsy coeds to boost their confidence so they have a better time at parties,” corrected Charles, “letting me coast on the telepathic high of good feelings. Flirting without intent, I suppose.”

An awkward silence filled the room, Erik both blindsided and disheartened, while Charles appeared to be serene. But Erik had known the telepath long enough to see the tension around his eyes and in the set of his shoulders.

“I don’t talk about it a lot.  People seem to want to introduce me to more people they think I should be attracted to, or tell me that I’ll grow out of my disinterest.  It’s easier when people make up their own reasons for why I’m not dating than trying to explain it.”

Erik nodded and tried to relax where he was leaning against the arm of the couch as Charles picked up his textbook.  His eyes weren’t moving, and he didn’t reach for his highlighter, so Erik was reasonably sure Charles wasn’t actually reading.

“I can feel your turmoil.  Just say what you want to say or ask what you want to ask.” Charles’s voice was brittle, and Erik wondered just how much people pushed Charles in the past.

Months of thinking and considering how to tell him hadn’t actually prepared Erik for this moment, so he blurted, “I’m in love with you and now I’m worried that I’m going to make you uncomfortable.  We were planning to keep living together while you’re in medical school, but I don’t…I don’t want to be one of those people who put those expectations on you.”  Erik had stood during his garbled explanation, and took the opportunity to lace up his running shoes and dashed out the door.

Charles’s blank face and gaping mouth were not promising signs and really, Erik wanted to get some space to assimilate the knowledge that Charles was in love with someone already.

He desperately hoped he hadn’t ruined his friendship with Charles because of his reaction, and giving him space to reflect on Erik’s interest might help; at the very least Erik thought that since he’d never expressed interest in Charles before the telepath would still be comfortable around him and not feel obligated to explain how he wasn’t interested.

As Erik picked up speed and his lungs began to ache he inwardly resolved to run until he was too tired to dwell on the afternoon’s discussion.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posted this one on Tumblr back in May- my gift for the remix made me think of it.


End file.
